Page 13 of Hot in the City
Natalia glanced in the direction her friend pointed. “It’s not my bloody oak tree. It’s just popular,” she mumbled.
Some students were sprawled on beach towels under the enormous tree, near the herbaceous border. One chick had her shirt off, stripped down to her bra. It wasn’t hot weather, but she obviously thought she was smokin’.
Natalia sighed. A few years ago, that would have been her, going to class and then hanging with friends in the park. She wouldn’t have got her boobs out though. Unless someone like Dan ‘The Man’ Mancini had asked nicely. Then she might’ve done enough to get arrested. Sadly, she’d never needed bail money.
Sofia stopped mid-stride, her ankle boots scraping the gravel. She pointed, silently raising her eyebrows and licking her fire-engine-red painted lips.
Natalia’s gaze followed her friend’s fingertip to a man sporting the most impressive forearms and muscular shoulders she’d ever seen. Her eyes roved lower, down the ladder he stood on, leaning against the infamous oak tree.
The man wore khaki overalls with a tight black t-shirt underneath. Workman’s gear. Showing off bare biceps, flexing and bunching under suntanned skin. It shouldn’t have turned her on, but boy, it did good things. Low down, clenchy things.
His butt was pure perfection. Globes of rounded, muscular man-flesh, begging to be squeezed through the canvas fabric. She could have sworn they called her name.
“Natalia?” He’d turned on his perch to stare straight at her. Dark, brooding eyes lit with humour, under a mop of wavy black hair. Sparks of recognition zipped through her brain.
Bugger me.
Dan The Man, in the flesh.
Dan Mancini looked fine as ever–even larger than she remembered. And he was in her garden. Under her oak tree. Clipping her foliage. Trimming her undergrowth. The spot between her thighs pulsed. Her lady garden needed some attention, forget the trees.
Natalia cleared her throat and stepped forward. “Dan Mancini. Well, I never.”
No, she never had. For years, she’d regretted the lack of touching him. Ever since he’d abruptly left university after one searing kiss.
Stepping down the ladder’s rungs, he jumped and thudded to ground. He wiped his brow against one bronzed forearm. He was all dirty and sweaty. In a good way. Dan strolled towards her, his hips swinging in that loping style she remembered. Like a cowboy.
He smiled, and her heart tried to jump out of her throat. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Nat, you look sensational.”
His close inspection of her fitted black dress, bare legs, down to her strappy red sandals, made heat rise from her throat to her cheeks. Her face would be as scarlet as her shoes. At least she’d be colour coordinated.
Sofia giggled and nudged Natalia in the ribs. “I’ll get going. Leave you two to catch up.” She wandered off down the garden path.
Natalia’s lips popped open to tell her friend to stay, but her heart wasn’t in it. The thump, thump, thump beneath her breasts beat only for Dan. She didn’t want to share. Even if her old study buddy was a stranger these days. A simmer of long-ago anger rose to the boil. Why hadn’t he stayed in touch?
“What were you doing in my tree?” Natalia crossed her arms and stared at him.
Dan’s lips quirked upwards. He looked edible when he smiled. “Your tree? I think this tree belongs to all the taxpayers of Melbourne, myself included.”
Her heart picked up speed. Did he say he moved to Melbourne? “I work for Parks and Gardens, so it is one of my trees. You live here now?”
He nodded. “Going on six months. It’s great to be back.”
Dan skipped town for Sydney ten years ago. He shouldn’t be here. Not now, when it was too late. Natalia tucked her left hand under her armpit. The diamond on her ring finger cut into her flesh. She wasn’t trying to hide it exactly, but she wasn't showing it off either.
It was about six months since she’d accidently started dating her boss, Ted. Coffee turned into drinks after work, one date led to another. Before she’d made a conscious decision, they were ‘a thing’. A few months later, he’d proposed. Not in an overly romantic way. He’d sent an email. Suggested they save a date in the calendar. Ted said they should make it official. So, they were engaged and had slept together two, forgettable, times.
Ted was a nice guy, a bit older, but stable. He put up with her flaky, disorganised self. More than she could say for most guys she’d dated. They didn’t get her. Nobody ever had, except Dan.
Once upon a time, she’d dreamed of more. A partner, a lover, who made her laugh and sigh with pleasure. Someone strong and dependable who’d never leave. But waiting around for a prince got old quickly, and modern princesses had to work to buy their own castles.
Ted was a kind, quiet man who wouldn't annoy her if they shared a house. Surely, she’d made the right decision.
Ted didn’t really appreciate her drawings though. What would he think if he actually visited her studio apartment, full to the exposed metal rafters with sketches and watercolours, easels and paintbrushes, specimens of flowers and bark? Her own, private artist’s jungle.
Dan dipped his chin at the small folio tucked under her arm. “Are you still drawing? I always loved your sketches. Especially the fern frond. I still have it on my wall. You saw beauty in the smallest details.”
Swoon! Her knees wobbled. How could he say something so sweet? Her future husband hadn’t.
